


Lovesick

by kaeorin



Series: Loki's Lullabies [85]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Fluff, Lazy Mornings, Morning Cuddles, Protective Loki (Marvel), Sick Character, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:15:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24799060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaeorin/pseuds/kaeorin
Summary: You wake up one morning in the throes of a summer cold.
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Reader
Series: Loki's Lullabies [85]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1678240
Comments: 16
Kudos: 175





	Lovesick

From the moment you cracked your eyes open that morning, you knew it was going to be bad.

Oh, maybe not the day itself. It was still early enough that the sun wasn’t quite blinding, but it was soft and bright and lovely. You didn’t have any plans for the day, either. You were still working remotely, but the head office had sent out a memo about servers going down for maintenance, so you wouldn’t have been able to work on anything even if you’d wanted to. You hadn’t mentioned it to Loki, planning instead to surprise him in the morning by cuddling up closer to him instead of getting up and getting to work. No, the day stretched out before you like a gentle golden carpet, promising softness and relaxation and leisure with your love.

But your head was killing you.

It felt like a sinus headache. There had been a long stretch of many years in your life where you’d gotten really sick about twice a year: when the weather first got cold and when the weather first got warm. But you hadn’t gotten particularly sick last winter and, at least so far this year, you seemed to have escaped the annual springtime allergies-turned-head-cold as well. You closed your eyes in a wince and tried not to groan. You’d been kind of itchy and sneezy for the last week or so, but your body never gave so much as a whisper of anything worse. And now it was hitting you like a truck.

Lying down was becoming uncomfortable. There was a growing pressure in your forehead and behind your cheekbones and, though you still felt absolutely exhausted, you knew you wouldn’t be able to keep lying down like this. You took a moment to bid a wistful farewell to the idea of curling up happily beside Loki and dragged yourself out of bed instead.

You shuffled into the kitchen. It was hard to be sure, especially right now, but you thought you might have most of what you’d need to make some kind of chicken soup in your slow-cooker. Pretty much all the ingredients you had were frozen or processed, so you didn’t hold out any hope that it’d actually have the kind of healing power that real homemade soup supposedly had, but throwing some stuff together right now would take care of dinner for tonight. Moving as quietly as you could, you set about measuring and mixing and starting the soup. 

When you were finished, you felt marginally more awake but not much better. Today, more than ever, you were tempted just to curl up on the sofa in your pajamas and just...wallow in how awful things felt. Growing up, your mother’s sole rule about sick days had always been that you had to change into clothes that you hadn’t slept in, even if they were simply another set of pajamas. She’d always been a big believer in setting yourself up for success, and she’d insisted that sitting around in clothes from the night before only allowed you to feel worse. 

You thought of Loki. When he woke up, he’d come out of the bedroom bright-eyed and put-together, and you didn’t want to think about how you’d feel in comparison to him. He never breathed a word, never gave any kind of sign, that he thought the kinds of things about you that you sometimes thought about yourself, but who could blame you? You were a human and he was a god. So you groaned and pushed yourself away from the kitchen counter, heading towards the bathroom.

You dragged yourself through your whole morning routine, adding in a painkiller for your headache and a decongestant for your sinuses, and then slipped back into the bedroom to dress. You moved as quietly as you could, but still when you stood up and tugged on the hem of your shirt, Loki was watching you through half-lidded eyes. When he saw you looking at him, he smiled. It was soft and hazy and so filled with love that it made your heart flutter in your chest.

“Morning,” you mumbled. He had never looked more inviting. He was stretched out on his back with his arms crossed behind his head. His hair was mussed _just so_ , just enough to make him look perfectly-imperfect. Despite the way you knew it’d hurt, you couldn’t keep yourself from crawling back into bed to join him. You put your head on his shoulder and sighed as you fit your body carefully along his. He wrapped one arm around your back and you felt him kiss your forehead.

“I’m not sure you’ve ever come back to bed after you’ve dressed,” he said in a quiet voice. You could hear the way a smile hovered over his mouth. “Are you feeling well?”

You knew he was only teasing, but maybe you weren’t in the mood for it today. You hid your face against his neck for a few moments. If you weren’t so stuffed-up, you knew you’d be able to take in the warm, comforting scent of him, but today...nothing. You’d never thought to miss that before. You shook your head, not quite up to speaking yet.

His free hand came up to rest against the side of your head. His fingers stroked through your hair. You were immensely grateful for the way he did not immediately demand to know what was wrong. He might have done that, when you were first coming together. His curiosity, his burning need to know things, often drove him to press you too hard for information, but he’d come to learn that, if he just gave you a bit of time, you’d often tell him things on your own. You’d always hated acknowledging your illnesses out loud, but you felt like you had to, for him.

“I have a cold. I hope I didn’t infect you.” That last part was kind of an afterthought. You’d been wound around him for weeks at this point, sharing your home and your space and your air. If germs had gotten to you, it was pretty much certain that they’d also gotten to him. Really you just hoped that he’d be better able to fight them off. 

He laughed, the sound vibrating through his chest. You loved his laugh. “I think I’ll be fine, love.” He kissed your forehead again. It had been a long time, a long _long_ time, since you’d let yourself be around anyone else when you felt like this, preferring to hold fast to denial until you could lock yourself away and out of sight, but Loki felt so good. He was touching you so gently, so tenderly. It was helping you forget how awful you felt, though you did still have the feeling that falling back asleep was probably out of the question.

He let you lie there for a long time. You drifted in a half-doze, awake enough to know that you were still uncomfortable, but asleep enough not to care. He was drawing patterns against the fabric of your shirt, simple little lines and doodles that made goosebumps erupt everywhere on your body. Guilt had not yet crept into you. For a long time, the peace you found with him was enough to override your concern that you were making him stay so perfectly still when maybe he just wanted to get up and do things. But he gave not a single sign that that was the truth. He kept his lips pressed to your forehead. You could feel him breathing through his nose—the lucky bastard—and each breath ruffled your hair a little. After some time, he drew in a bit of a deeper breath, like he wanted to speak. The anxious part of your brain tried sluggishly to shift into gear, ready to pull yourself away as soon as he asked you to let him get up, but most of you was still too busy reveling in the comfort of him.

“I’m sorry you’re unwell,” he said. His lips tickled your forehead because he did not pull away from you at all. “But I must confess that I appreciate how you’re letting me hold you.”

Maybe he had a point. On a normal day, this would be almost unthinkable. On a normal day, you would have been up and moving ages ago, even if it was just scrolling through things on your computer. Maybe you just had too much guilt associated with being idle like this. It was the city. If you weren’t working, trying to contribute to something, it was hard for you to justify the amount of space you took up. In your first years here, you’d had to be constantly working, or else you would never have been able to afford living in the city. When you got hired on in Stark Tower, your financial situation kind of stabilized a little, but then you were absolutely surrounded by geniuses and literal superheroes and you’d had to keep hustling out of the fear of slipping into mediocrity. Lockdown had slowed things down considerably, but it had taken an illness for you to take the time to really appreciate having Loki in your space? You tried to make a mental note to pay more attention to this even when you were feeling better, but then pressed your face a little more solidly against his throat.

“You feel good,” you mumbled. “You make _me_ feel good.”

He laughed again and tightened his arm around you. He didn’t get nearly enough praise. You made a point of complimenting him multiple times a day—his looks, his brain, his voice, his abilities—but it seemed he had yet to grow accustomed to that. He always laughed in response, and often, you could hear discomfort and even disbelief tinting the sound. This morning, you heard only love.

“I am glad for that.” He lapsed into silence again, then. You always wondered what he was thinking about when he got quiet like that. Something from his past, maybe? Guilt? Often you could pick up subtle signs from his silence, but every once in a while, he gave nothing away. You lifted your head so you could look at him. He met your eyes immediately and gave you a fond smile. How someone could smile like that and still have such storms inside him, you’d never know.

You reached up to touch his cheek, and he pressed a little more firmly into your hand. “You are _good_ , Loki.” You put all the strength that you could muster into the words. Maybe you were wrong, and he was merely thinking about how to tell you that he wanted to get up finally. Maybe he was just musing over what he wanted for breakfast. That was fine. This was something he needed to hear anyway. “Every single day, I thank the universe for the fact that you exist.”

He groaned, then, and his eyes slipped closed like he wanted to hide from you. But he didn’t pull your hand away. “Darling, it’s meant to be my job to make _you_ giggle and blush.” His voice held very little reproach. You squirmed a little ways up his body so you could kiss him, but you kept it to a cautious brush of your lips against his. If you hadn’t already infected him, you certainly didn’t want to do it now. 

“I’m quite sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said innocently. You hadn’t meant to embarrass him, but sometimes when you told him the truth, he hid away from you like that for a moment. You treasured that. Never in a million years would you have expected that you could do something like that to Loki, of all people. 

He tightened his arm around you again, and rolled the two of you over so that your back pressed against the mattress and he could stretch out over you. He held you tightly to his body. You barely had time to register your protest before he was attacking you with kisses, peppering them all over your face and neck until you felt dizzy with his attention. 

“It’s _my_ job to make _you_ feel good today,” he pronounced firmly when he finally pulled away from you again. He smirked a little. “And _your_ job is merely to take it like a good girl.”

And now _you_ were blushing. It was your turn to close your eyes now, and if something like a giggle escaped you, then who could blame you? There was an edge of triumph when Loki laughed at you, and then you felt him kiss the very tip of your nose. 

Maybe you’d play his game, for now. As long as it kept him kissing you like that.


End file.
